


Guide of Souls

by Morgenleoht



Series: The After That Follows the Life [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Genocide, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sovngarde, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgenleoht/pseuds/Morgenleoht
Summary: For Aurelia Callaina, death was only the beginning.





	Guide of Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Trigger warning for death, violence, fantastic racism and mentions of genocide, war crimes and child neglect/abuse. Just a little ‘what-if’ involving Callaina/Korli in Sovngarde.

 

_Well, I wasn’t expecting that._

Aurelia Callaina opened her eyes after the brief flash of agony from the fatal blow dealt by a soft-spoken Quaestor who insisted she draw her tanto before he killed her. Plain-faced and heavy-shouldered, his name was unknown to her but he insisted on giving her ‘the death of a true Nord’. Ironic that she should be considered such by the Emperor’s executioner and not her own family.

            Below her lay a verdant vale under strange stars. _Sovngarde._ Before she could start on the well-beaten track, an eerie cry echoed across the iridescent sky and mists cloaked the way to the Hall of Valour. _Alduin. Well, shit._

With hunger and thirst vanished, there was no need to plunge into that mist. Callaina sat down on a boulder and watched the shadowy form of Alduin flit back and forth, cries of fear echoing before him and silence only in his wake. The souls of heroes were the World-Eater’s rightful prey, according to the stories Esbern told her, and she wasn’t in a hurry to sate his endless hunger. This wasn’t much of an afterlife but it was the only one she had.

            Almost hourly Nords passed under the rune-etched stone portal. “I wouldn’t go in there,” she told every one of them. “The World-Eater’s hungry.”

            They mostly didn’t listen to her and Alduin fed on them.

            Eventually, the World-Eater ventured nearer to the portal and Callaina concealed herself under a bush. “I see you, joor,” he taunted. “Why do you hide?”

            “Because I want to spare you the taste of my soul,” she retorted. “It’s tough and stringy.”

            The black dragon laughed. “You are a hero of Sovngarde, a descendant of the Bruniikke. Your soul will taste… piquant.”

            “More like disappointment,” she countered. “Just about everyone I knew agreed I wasn’t a true Nord.”

            Alduin laughed again. “I will spare you until the last,” he promised. “Few of your kind amuse me, joor, but you have managed it.”

            “You’re _too_ kind,” she murmured sarcastically as he flew off to hunt some other random hero.

            Assured of her temporary survival, Callaina dusted off her blue linen dress and ventured into the mists. Pockets of clear air existed here and there, sheltering hardened warriors in Imperial and Stormcloak armour, ragged bandits and even the richly-clad form of King Torygg. “Stick close to me,” she advised. “For some reason, the World-Eater’s decided to save me for last. If we hurry, I can get you to Shor’s Hall.”

            “How do we know you won’t feed us to the World-Eater to save yourself?” asked a Stormcloak.

            “Because, you fucking idiot, I’m a Blade,” she snapped in reply. “The more souls I get to Shor’s Hall, the fewer Alduin can hunt to feed his power when the Dragonborn comes.”

            She wasn’t a Blade but a creative lie in the course of a good deed was permissible.

            “Why would the World-Eater spare you?” Torygg asked.

            “Apparently he has a sense of humour. Now are we staying or going?”

            They chose to join her and the pocket of air followed their passage. On the other side of the mists lay a giant of a man, brown-haired and thick-shouldered, wearing torc, arm-rings and a barely-there loincloth. “Welcome, wayfarers grim. What business do you have in Shor’s Hall?” he asked.

            “Well, we’re dead and the World-Eater’s snacking on the souls of heroes,” she informed him tartly. “You going to stand there or do something useful?”

            “Sharp of eye and sharper of tongue,” he noted dryly. “Truly you are a woman of the Kreathlings.”

            “Well, can you do the whole hero-testing thing so these ones can go into Shor’s Hall?” she asked. “Alduin seems to like me so I’m going to rescue the ones I can.”

            “The World-Eater offers false hope,” the gatekeeper warned.

            “Of course he does. But what can I say, I’ve lived with it all my life.” Without waiting for a response, Callaina turned and plunged back into the mists.

            There was no time in Sovngarde and so she couldn’t say when new souls came to her attention, only when the mists closed around her and the World-Eater swooped on those she couldn’t save. Some had the sense the gods gave a gnat and _listened_ ; others fed Alduin’s hunger and power. One, a grey-haired old man who claimed to be the Harbinger of the Companions, assured her the Dragonborn was found as he’d saved his soul from the Daedric Prince Hircine. He refused to enter Shor’s Hall despite being hailed by Tsun, Shield-Thane of Shor and God of Trials, but chose to await the final battle.

            The big surprise was when an athletic woman with iron-threaded hair and turquoise eyes arrived on the heels of a burly man in chainmail robes and a grey-bearded soldier in Stormcloak bearskins. “I thought Kyne would look more Nord,” she noted in a painfully familiar raven-harsh voice.

            “I’m not Kyne,” Callaina said disgustedly. “But I see you still don’t think I’m a real Nord, _Mother._ ”

            The Stormsword stepped back in shock. _“Callaina?”_

“Yes. The Emperor finally executed me, blah, blah, blah. We should get going before Alduin stops eating those three Imperials who arrived just before you.”

            “She’s definitely your daughter,” observed the chainmail-clad man in a deep dry voice.

            Sigdrifa said nothing as they entered the mists. Callaina kept her eyes ahead, sprinting from one pocket in the mist to another. Silence was probably the best option.

            When they cleared the mists, Tsun was standing before the bridge, chatting casually with Kodlak. “Welcome once more, Callaina,” he greeted with a slight smile. “Who bring you to Shor’s Hall?”

            “My mother Sigdrifa and a couple Stormcloaks,” she responded dryly. “Damned if I know who they are.”

            “I am Sigdrifa Stormsword and these are my husband Ulfric Stormcloak and his huscarl Galmar Stone-Fist,” Sigdrifa announced proudly. “We died in battle fighting the Legion.”

            “Cursed be the Dragonborn,” Galmar growled. “He was of the Legion.”

            “Must be the new Talos,” Callaina said wryly.

            Tsun shook his head. “There is only one Talos. Come, heroes of Skyrim, test yourselves against me to earn the right to enter Shor’s Hall!”

            Callaina turned away. This wasn’t a fight she wanted to watch.

            Time and time passed before the Dragonborn arrived. Heavy shoulders, brown hair, plain face – yeah, it was the Quaestor who killed her. _Of course_. Akatosh had that kind of warped sense of humour. “Oh, it’s you,” Callaina said sourly. “Well, come on. Alduin needs his arse kicked and we haven’t got all day.”

            “I was following orders,” the Dragonborn justified in his soft voice. “Skyrim can’t be divided in the face of the Thalmor threat.”

            “Whatever,” Callaina retorted. “I did nothing to the Empire and still you killed me. Killed my mother and her husband too.”

            “You died for a greater good.” The Dragonborn sounded sincere, which was predictable. Dovahkiinne were good at justifying their actions.

            “No, I died for an old man’s fear.” They plunged into the mists, which the Dragonborn dispelled with a Shout. “Make yourself useful and let’s save the rest of the souls in here.”

            Most of the surviving souls were Stormcloaks and spat on the Legionnaire. “Hope the Legate’s cloak suits you,” said a sun-blond Nord.

            “Ralof,” the Dragonborn said sadly. “I’m sorry.”

            “Take your sorry and shove it up your arse, Hadvar,” Ralof countered crudely. “You could have freed Skyrim but instead you’ve chosen to chain her tighter to a dying Empire.”

            “Titus Mede is dying and he has a granddaughter I’m getting married to,” Hadvar said. “I will be using my Voice against the Thalmor, I promise.”

            “And becoming an Emperor in the process. Lovely,” Callaina sighed. “Let’s go. Time runs short.”

            Alduin actively hunted them through the mists and on the other side, only Ralof remained. “I thank you for the feast!” the dragon taunted. “You will make a lovely dessert, Kah-Lah-Nah.”

            “I swear to Kyne I’m going to go down fighting that arsehole,” Callaina said fervently.

            “That makes two of us,” Ralof agreed.

            “Pride-Magicka-Fury,” Hadvar noted. “A dragon’s name.”

            “As I told someone else, I think he likes me,” Callaina told them with a sigh. “Good luck in the fight against Tsun, Ralof.”

            The Dragonborn didn’t need luck. He had the Thu’um.

            During the ensuing conversation between Hadvar and Tsun, it became clear that not only was the Legionnaire a Legate, he was also Harbinger of the Companions. Weren’t the heroes of Jorrvaskr supposed to be politically neutral or something? Maybe the Dragonborn got a pass.

            Hadvar won his battle and passed over the Whalebone Bridge to the Hall of Valour, leaving Ralof and Callaina behind. “Arsehole,” she muttered, earning a laugh from Ralof.

            “You seem to hold a grudge,” the Stormcloak noted.

            “He killed me, he killed my mother and her husband and his huscarl, all because he was ‘following orders’,” she replied. “I mean, I kept my head down in Cyrodiil because Imperial executions are neither quick nor painless, but Titus Mede still gave the order for my death and he carried it out.”

            “He didn’t even flinch when the Imperials lopped off my head at Helgen,” Ralof said. “We learned the sword together in Riverwood.”

            “And now he’ll be Emperor,” Callaina sighed. “Talos truly fucking returned. I think I’m glad I didn’t live to see it.”

            Tsun leaned on his axe, studying them. “You won’t enter the Hall?”

            “No. I have every intention of facing Alduin,” Callaina said firmly. “My ancestors rode his kin like carnivorous cattle.”

            She spent the time running through the few Destruction spells she remembered, then figured her greater gift for Alteration might be of better use. Surely rocks could break Alduin’s wings.

            “Ulfric’s inside the hall,” she finally told Ralof. “Galmar and the Stormsword too.”

            Ralof grimaced. “Sharing eternity with Sigdrifa. Wonderful.”

            “How do you think _I_ feel? She used to make me stand outside in the snow to toughen me up because I wasn’t Nord enough for her liking.” Callaina sighed again.

            “You have brothers. Bjarni and Egil.” Ralof’s response was slow. “They live in hiding.”

            “The Empire will find them,” she said sadly. “They always do.”

            “Not before they’re ready to strike back. Only four people knew where they are and we’re all in Sovngarde.” His mouth quirked to the side. “They’re not stupid by any means.”

            “Nothing we can do about it now,” Callaina said.

            “There is much you can do from Sovngarde,” Tsun rumbled. “Did not your sharp tongue turn away Alduin’s wrath and your sharp eyes save multitudes of souls from his hunger?”

            “I amused the World-Eater,” Callaina countered. “He’s probably salivating over the feast awaiting him.”

            “He will be gravely disappointed,” Tsun assured her. “The Dragonborn is… competent.”

            Hadvar returned in short order with three softly glowing spirits. “Break the mists,” he commanded in that soft clear voice. “Clear Skies, together.”

            The three turned out to be the original trio of Tongues who banished Alduin the first time around, and their mighty Voices shattered the mists. It still took three attempts before the World-Eater deigned to notice them.

            It turned out that Hadvar knew a Shout called ‘Dragonrend’, one that dripped hate and loathing from its Words, making Callaina shudder. It forced Alduin to the ground and made him vulnerable to Kodlak’s sword, Ralof’s warhammer and her own Telekinetic rock-pelting. Hadvar used an ebony bow and arrows to strike from a distance. The World-Eater cried out in despair at the end just before his physical form dissolved, his energy dispersing in the aether.

            “He’ll be back at the end of days,” Kodlak panted, “And we’ll be there waiting for him.”

            “He should’ve had me for the entrée,” Callaina laughed wearily. “None of us would be here if he hadn’t found me… amusing.”

            “Your name is not unlike the Jill’s he killed in his rise to power,” Tsun said from behind them. “Perhaps his conscience, or whatever it pleases the dovahhe to call one, was pricked by your defiance.”

            “See?” Hadvar pointed out. “You died for the greater good.”

            Tsun caught her hand before she could draw her tanto. “He is still needed,” the God of Trials warned. “Shor has commanded it.”

            She tugged her wrist out his gentle grip. “Fine. But one day, he’ll face the judgment of the gods.”

            “His place in Sovngarde assured, my lord Shor a rich boon to grant,” Tsun said gravely. “A Shout to summon a hero in time of need.”

            The Dragonborn bowed. “I am honoured, Tsun Shield-Thane. Let it go, Callaina. Eternity’s too long to hold a grudge.”

            “Go fuck yourself, Hadvar,” she said bitterly. “I don’t have to march to the Emperor’s orders anymore.”

            There was little more to be said and Tsun returned him to Nirn with a Shout. Talos and Kyne protect her brothers.

            “Poor Skyrim,” Ralof said heavily. “I hope he doesn’t hurt my family.”

            “He’ll send them here. It’s his idea of honour.”

            The mists cleared and the entirety of Sovngarde could be seen, a land of mountains and valleys under an opalescent sky with the clean scent of snow on the wind. “No tests of valour for you three, Shor has decreed,” Tsun announced. “Go forth and feast with the heroes who will hail you for your courage.”

            Ralof and Kodlak needed no further urging; they followed the Three Tongues across the Whalebone Bridge. But Callaina looked across the vale to the great stone gateway which granted access to Sovngarde and frowned. “You know what the most depressing part of all this is?” she asked.

            “I do not, sharp-tongued guide of souls,” Tsun said gravely.

            “Any Nord arsehole can die bravely, beat on you for a few minutes and find himself feasting in Sovngarde,” she said bitterly. “They could be a kinslayer, a liar or a murderer, but they can still come here if they die in battle.”

            “When Shor set the conditions of entrance, things were simpler and more desperate,” Tsun conceded. “But it is a thing most prideful, Korlaina Guide-of-Souls, to presume that you can decide who is worthy of Sovngarde or not.”

            _Guide-of-Souls._ She liked that honour-name. “If not me, then who?” she countered. “There are many forms of bravery. Did the Blades who died defending Cloud Ruler or under the tortures of the Thalmor come to Sovngarde?”

            “Yes and no,” Tsun said. “They went to a separate place – Heaven’s Reach Temple. It isn’t for you as you didn’t die a Blade.”

            “And yet I fought the World-Eater where they didn’t,” Callaina sighed. “I don’t think I can share the Hall of Valour with people like my mother or Hadvar, Tsun.”

            “Then share the vale with me, child of Kyne,” Tsun suggested gently. “For the Hall of Valour is a place I cannot enter, for fear of Shor’s throne becoming threatened, and few stay to converse once the trial of valour is done.”

            _He’s_ lonely, she realised. _I wonder if he realises it?_

“I could do that,” she agreed with a smile. “And maybe between us, we can find a way to make sure only the worthiest of souls can enter the Hall of Valour.”

            He laughed and she knew it was the right choice.


End file.
